


Flying High

by sparksaam



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Author is projecting her own traumatic experiences, Emetophilia, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Irondad, Marijuana, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Has Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Mess, Poor bb goes through it in this one, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Recreational Drug Use, Scared Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Vomiting, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24485071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparksaam/pseuds/sparksaam
Summary: "What’s up? You know, with…” Tony gestured vaguely towards the trembling kid in the passenger’s seat, “…this”.Peter chewed his lip, turning to look his mentor in the eye. Tears streamed down his pale cheeks as he spoke, but his words were louder this time.“I don’t know. I feel so…” His face broke and Tony put a reassuring hand on Peter’s shoulder as he began to whimper again. “I feel so weird.”Tony was patient. “What do you mean by weird?”“I- I’m so dizzy. And…” Peter flinched suddenly, “… I can’t think. Everything is too much. Too loud.”He closed his eyes tightly again and leaned his head against the cool window of the car, looking pained as his breath began to pick up. Tony watched Peter cautiously.“I think I’m dying.”“No, Peter, you’re not gonna die.” Tony promised, although at this point the man wasn’t so sure. He had no idea what was going on or how to help the teenager writhing in his passenger seat.“Yeah”, the kid moaned. “I am. ‘M gonna die”.ORPeter ends up getting more than he bargained for when he attends Flash's party alone.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 36
Kudos: 326





	Flying High

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys!! thank you SO much for all the love you showed on my last work! it was so encouraging!! this one took me a while to write, but hopefully it's worth it. i've been in a weird headspace because of everything happening in the US right now. I hope you all are staying safe and are okay mentally. i love you all so much.
> 
> just so you know, this fic contains recreational drug use (marijuana) so if that might be triggering to you, PLEASE don't read!!

Late nights in the workshop were some of Tony’s favorites. As much as he loved being the face of the Avengers, his day job could be straight-up draining. The hours he spent in his workshop in the evening were one of the few times the busy man could find a rare moment of solace. Alone in the shop, with a screwdriver in his hand and AC/DC blaring through the speakers, Tony felt his tension dissipating like some sort of magical drug.

That’s why, when his phone began to buzz suddenly on the workbench next to him, Tony let out an audible groan. The vibration of the device brought him out of his euphoric mood and back into the real world. There was a reason he stayed up so late. Even in The City That Never Sleeps, no one bothered the mechanic after midnight.

Tony sighed and elected to ignore the sound, remembering what Pepper had told him about the importance of self-care. He figured it was a prank call, anyway. Or maybe a telemarketer. Whoever it was, they could wait until the morning, when the hero had a few hours of sleep and a cup of coffee his belt. The merciless buzzing eventually stopped.

When his phone began to ring a second time, Tony’s eyebrows flew to the ceiling in exasperation.

“FRIDAY,” He called impatiently to the AI, “please tell me who the hell is calling me at two-o-clock in the morning”.

The AI’s voice, immune to Tony’s grouchiness, retorted casually.

“It’s Mr. Parker, sir.”

Tony froze. What on earth was the kid doing up so late? Even with his homework and his unconventional after-school activities, Tony had never known the kid to stay up past midnight. Not to mention, Peter had to be up bright and early for training with Cap tomorrow. A phone call this late was uncharacteristically _not-Peter._ Carefully, the mechanic put down the gauntlet prototype he’d been working on and paused the heavy rock music that had been echoing through the shop. The sudden silence was eerie.

“Patch him through”.

When he heard the line click, Tony spoke up.

“Hey, kid. Care telling me what you’re doing up so late? I know you’re excited about training tomorrow, but—”, he paused when he processed the fast, shallow breaths on the other end of the line.

Peter was breathless—scratch that—practically hyperventilating.

“Tony, I’m dying.”

The mechanic felt his stomach flip as the kid’s words echoed around the empty lab.

“What do you mean, Peter? Where are you?” Tony did his best to hide the panic in his voice, but his heart was pounding a million miles an hour and he suddenly felt lightheaded.

Tony could hear Peter’s rapid breathing hitch on the other end of the line, and then what sounded like a choked sob.

“Mr. Stark”, he pleaded desperately, his voice barely above a whisper.

The kid’s tone sent a jolt of anxiety through his already-panicking mentor, and before he could fully assess the situation, Tony was already enveloped in the Iron Man suit.

“FRIDAY. Get me the coordinates of the kid’s suit. Now.”

“Peter is not in the Spider-Man suit, sir.”

“Well then where the _fuck_ is he?” Tony didn’t mean to snap, but he couldn’t quell the panic that something was _seriously_ wrong with his kid.

“Tracking his Stark Phone now.”

Within seconds, a pair of coordinates lit up the suit’s heads-up display and the hero wasted no time, dashing to the garage to grab his fastest sportscar before taking off into the night.

“Peter, I need you to stay calm. I’m coming to get you.”

All Tony received in response was another frantic whimper, which did little to ease his mind. At least he knew the kid was still breathing.

The directions FRIDAY had given him offered no hint as to what was wrong with Peter. According to his phone’s location, Peter wasn’t in the city at all, but in the Northern suburbs, in a particularly wealthy neighborhood. Tony couldn’t fathom what in the world Peter may have been doing there. It’s not like there would be much crime to fight in a frickin’ gated community.

Minutes later, the billionaire pulled up, tires screeching, to the winding driveway of an enormous house. The grass was littered with beer cans and toilet paper, and the _thump thump_ of bass-boosted speakers rattled the windows. It looked like a scene straight out of a cliche teen movie. Inside the house, Tony could see a few dozen teenagers dancing and milling around idly. The man was suddenly reminded of the frat parties he used to attend in college, and he shuddered at the through. This wasn’t Peter’s scene at all. _Since when had the kid become a party animal?_

“This it, FRI?”

The AI made a noise of affirmation.

The suit’s face plate retracted and within seconds, Tony was racing across the yard and into the house, practically slamming open the door as he shimmied his way through a crowd of intoxicated teenagers.

“Move.” He practically shoved a kid out of the way as he searched the main level for Peter. The music, some bouncy pop song, practically shook the house with each beat, overloading Tony’s senses and increasing his panic.

_Where was the damn kid?_

The sudden presence of an adult—not just an adult, _Tony Stark—_ crashing their party caught the attention of a few of the kids, who began to point and whisper at the man in the iron suit. Tony tried to ignore the attention, coughing as he weaved his way through the smokey room.

Over by the drinks table, Tony spotted a familiar face. It was that kid, the little punk who bullied Peter— what was his name? Flynn? Fabian? Tony had better things to do than try and remember the kid’s stupid nickname. He quickly approached the boy, grabbing him by his shoulders.

“Where’s Peter?”

The bully flinched as the billionaire grabbed him, mouth dropping agape when he realized who the man was.

“T-Tony Stark? What are you doing here? At my house?”. He could barely get the words out, starstruck in the presence of Iron Man himself.

Tony didn’t have time for autographs. “Don’t make me ask again, kid. Peter. Where is he?”

The kid’s face grew red as he stammered.

“Uh, I have- I have no idea. Last time I saw him was about twenty minutes ago. He might have gone outside.” He gestured to the backyard, eyes still wide, as if he couldn’t believe _the_ Tony Stark was standing in front of him.

Mr. Stark huffed and quickly headed for the back door, overwhelmed by the pounding music and the nauseating smell of cotton candy flavored vape wafting through the air. As the seconds passed, his mind was conjuring up more and more ways that his kid could be in trouble.

At least the backyard had fresh air. Tony surveyed the deck, which was just as crowded as the living room had been, scanning for his kid. Teenagers milled around him like flies, and the mechanic narrowly missed colliding into a kid who was cannon balling clumsily into the pool. The man cursed under his breath as his suit was hit with a large splash of water, but he kept searching.

Rounding the side of the house, the harsh exterior lights of the deck dissipated, and Tony was left practically blind in the near darkness. He flipped his faceplate back on.

“FRIDAY, scan for heat signatures.”

In seconds, Tony’s display lit up with a thermal map of the side of the house. There were two red blobs over by the trees—teenagers—who were, _oh. Never mind._ Tony turned away quickly and kept walking.

As he approached the bushes along the side of the house, another shape lit up the thermal map on his screen. Tucked in between some bushes, someone appeared to be curled up, their arms wrapped around their legs and their head between their knees.

Flipping his face plate off as quickly as possible, Tony crouched down on his hands and knees in the dark and crawled toward the figure in the bushes.

“Peter?”

The figure didn’t look up when Mr. Stark spoke. As he inched forward and the huddled mass came into view, Tony’s stomach clenched. Even in the dark, he knew that it was Peter, and the kid looked like a living nightmare.

The boy was curled into a tight ball up against the side of the house, his knees up to his chest and his head tucked down to hide his face. He was hugging himself tightly, as if he were afraid to let go. He wasn’t dressed in the Spider-Man suit, but in a simple gray hoodie and a pair of jeans.

Tony tried again, failing to hide the tremor in his voice as he pleaded with the kid.

“ _Please_ , Peter. It’s me. It’s Mr. Stark.”

Peter still didn’t acknowledge his voice, and Tony crouched closer to the kid, his hands uselessly hovering over the boy’s shaking form, unsure of what to do. He didn’t want to touch Peter and scare him; the last thing he needed was for the kid to freak out any more than he already was.

Tony shuffled back to examine Peter, checking the kid for any injuries. He didn’t see any blood or protruding bones— a good sign. But it was hard to tell for sure in the dark. The kid was shaking violently, and his breathing was still just as labored as it had been on the phone. He sounded like he was having a panic attack.

The billionaire was no stranger to anxiety attacks, and he knew that the kid wasn’t either. He’d spent countless nights on the phone with Peter, talking him down after a particularly rough night on Patrol. He hated to see the kid dealing with the same shit he did; the fate of the world was a heavy burden for anyone to carry, let alone a sixteen-year-old. Still, Tony had never seen the kid _this_ freaked out, and it scared the hell out of him.

Taking a deep breath to collect himself, Tony put on a brave facade before speaking to the kid.

“Peter, I’m going to touch you now. “

He let the suit fully retract before gently placing his hand on the kid’s trembling shoulder, hoping the touch might ground him. At the contact, Peter flinched violently, and a wave of guilt washed over the mechanic. However, he didn’t move his hand back, and Peter didn’t shy away from Tony’s gentle touch. Instead, the kid slowly lifted his head from his knees until his eyes made contact with his mentor’s. Even in the heavy darkness and through the sweaty mess of bangs obscuring Peter’s face, Tony could see that the kid’s eyes were red-rimmed and puffy.

“Oh, Peter…”

Tony’s voice was gentle and sympathetic. The kid looked so small— so unlike the superhero who caught cars with his bare hands and had kicked the ass of every criminal on the city’s Most Wanted list.

As he recognized his mentor, Peter’s face crumpled, and he began to sob again. Tony quickly wrapped his arms around the kid and pulled him close to his chest. The boy reciprocated the hug and clung to Tony tightly, burying his face in the mechanic’s worn t-shirt.

“ _Shhh, shh._ It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Tony attempted to soothe the sobbing boy in his arms, running his fingers through the kid’s messy curls in an effort to pacify him. He still didn’t know what was wrong with the kid, but just having Peter in his arms, breathing and with all his limbs still intact, lifted a huge weight off Tony’s shoulders.

They stayed like that for a few minutes in the dark-- Peter shaking and sobbing quietly in his mentor’s arms, and Tony holding onto him tightly in comfort. However, it wasn’t long before the scene began to draw the attention of the party goers. Wherever Tony Stark went, a crowd usually followed. Here was no different, much to his annoyance.

As soon as the first few kids began to gather to watch the strange scene unfolding, Tony knew he need to get Peter out of there, _ASAP_. He was sure Peter was already mortified enough to be crying in Iron Man’s arms. He didn’t need half of Midtown School of Science and Technology to witness it, or worse, bring it up at school on Monday.

Tony doesn’t remember exactly what was said, but there was a good chance he might have cursed out the ever-growing crowd of drunk teenagers. That wasn’t important. Right now, his sole focus was getting the kid into the car as quickly as possible without drawing excess attention, which turned out to be more difficult than expected. He tried to get Peter to walk, but the kid’s legs were jelly and Tony ended up having to prop the kid against his shoulder, half-dragging the poor boy to the passenger seat of the Audi before depositing him inside and quickly slamming the door to shield his kid from the crowd that was now watching them from the lawn.

_Damn kids._

Mr. Stark quickly ran around to the driver’s side and hopped in, not bothering to fasten his seat belt as he started the car and sped down the block, away from the party and the flock of stumbling high schoolers.

After he’d driven a few blocks, Tony turned onto a quiet side-street and pulled over to the side of the road under a glowing streetlamp. As soon as he cut the engine, the car was plunged into sudden silence, aside from Peter’s heavy breathing.

Turning to look at Peter, whose shaking form was lit up by the electric glow of the streetlight, Tony felt his stomach leap into his throat. The kid looked awful. Peter had practically melted into the seat in the preceding chaos, with his head laying heavily against the glass of the car window and his feet once-again pulled up to his chest on the leather car seat. His eyes were fixed straight ahead, his unmoving gaze practically boring a hole in the front windshield. In the light, tony could see the whites of Peter’s eyes were a painful red, contrasting sharply with his pale skin. His breathing was still fast— too fast—and he was whimpering softly into his sleeve. A bead of sweat rolled down Peter’s temple and into his already-sopping curls. His arm twitched violently, and he pulled it tighter around his knees. The kid looked nothing less that traumatized.

Tony cleared his throat before speaking, his tone as gentle as possible.

“Give it to me straight, kid. How much did you drink? I won’t be mad, I promise.”

Peter’s breathing hitched, and he spoke for the first time since Tony found him. His eyes stayed glued to the windshield. It took Peter a few seconds to respond; Tony had to strain to hear the kid’s shaky whisper.

“Didn’t drink anything.”

It took everything in the hero to hold back a scoff at the kid’s bluff.

“Yeah, okay. You can barely walk, Peter. I’m not stupid.”

At the man’s words, Peter’s breathing picked up again and Tony guiltily softened his approach.

“C’mon. Like I said, you’re not in trouble. I just want the truth.”

Peter’s response was muffled, his face still buried in his tear-stained hoodie sleeve.

“Told you. Didn’t drink anything. Just lemonade.”

“Lemonade…” Tony’s eyebrows perked up. “Like…”

“Just lemonade. Promise.”

The kid seemed so sure that Tony felt inclined to believe him, even in his troubled state.

“Huh.” Tony turned in the driver’s seat, so he was fully facing the kid. “Well, if that’s the case, then what’s up? You know, with…” he gestured vaguely towards the trembling kid in the passenger’s seat, “…this”.

Peter chewed his lip, turning to look his mentor in the eye. Tears streamed down his pale cheeks as he spoke, but his words were louder this time.

“I don’t know. I feel so…” His face broke and Tony put a reassuring hand on Peter’s shoulder as he began to whimper again. “I feel so _weird_.”

Tony was patient. “What do you mean by _weird_?”

“I- I’m _so_ dizzy. And…” Peter flinched suddenly, “… I can’t think. Everything is too much. Too loud.”

He closed his eyes tightly again and leaned his head against the cool window of the car, looking pained as his breath began to pick up. Tony watched Peter cautiously.

“I think I’m dying.”

“No, Peter, you’re not gonna die.” Tony promised, although at this point the man wasn’t so sure. He had no idea what was going on or how to help the teenager writhing in his passenger seat.

“Yeah”, the kid moaned. “I am. ‘M gonna die”.

 _What the hell was happening with his kid?_ This wasn’t a normal panic attack—Tony knew that for sure.

“Has this happened before? Is it something to do with the spider bite?”

Peter shook his head against the window and let out a pathetic whimper.

“FRIDAY. Give me Peter’s vitals”, he asked softly.

“Mr. Parker’s blood pressure and body temperature are normal. However, his heart rate is severely elevated at 170 bpm. He is exhibiting signs of distress. No injuries have been detected.”

Alarmed, Tony quickly put his hand to Peter’s neck, testing his pulse. He was horrified to find the kid’s heart racing dangerously. The man felt slightly nauseous as he pulled his hand away.

“ _Geez,_ kid. I’m gonna talk to Bruce. I think something may be wrong with your heart.” He grabbed his phone to shoot the Doctor a text.

The kid didn’t respond, which only increased Tony’s worry. Peter only squeezed his eyes shut tighter in a grimace.

“You said you’re dizzy, right? Are you hungry? Have you eaten anything?”

Peter exhaled loudly in response, obviously trying to suppress his panic.

“Um, I’m not super hungry. I had some brownies at the party.”

Tony froze suddenly, fingers halting in midair as he stopped typing out the text message. He looked inquisitively at Peter, whose complexion was starting to take on a hulk-green tint.

“Wait, _brownies_?”

The kid grunted in affirmation.

Tony grabbed Peter’s shoulders suddenly, swiveling the kid to face him. Peter whimpered loudly in protest.

“Look at me, Peter. This is important.” At the urgency in Mr. Stark’s voice, Peter’s eyes fluttered open to look at his mentor. Sure enough, they were bloodshot, and his pupils were unusually large. “How many brownies did you have?”

“Uh, two? I think? I’m not sure why that’s important though.” The kid twitched in Tony’s hold. Suddenly, he clasped his palm to his mouth and his eyes widened in fear. His voice was muffled as he spoke through his fingers.

“I think I’m gonna—”

In a brilliant moment that could only be chalked up to “parental reflexes”, Tony lunged over the kid to open the passenger side door, just in time for Peter to topple out of the car onto his hands and knees and violently empty the contents of his stomach onto the grass.

In seconds, Tony had a steadying hand on Peter’s shoulder, while the other rubbed small, rhythmic circles on the kid’s back.

“It’s okay. Let it all out.”

Peter gagged again, which was followed by a heavy stream of vomit. Tony grimaced in sympathy.

Under the harsh light of the streetlamp, Peter was unbelievably pale. His skin gleaned with sweat, and the dark circles around his eyes reminded Tony of a corpse.

After a few minutes of heaving, Peter’s stomach began to settle. He slowly pulled himself up until he was sitting on his knees, swaying slightly. He squeezed his eyes shut in discomfort and leaned his head against Tony’s chest. Tony comfortingly took the boy in his arms, running his fingers through his sweaty curls to quiet Peter’s soft whining.

“I think you greened out there, bud.”

Peter didn’t move from where he was slumped against his mentor.

“Wh’d’y mean?”

“Well,” Tony exhaled slowly and tightened his grip on the kid, “I think you might have eaten some pot brownies.”

Peter quickly pulled away from Tony’s grip, his eyes flying open in alarm.

“Like, _DRUGS?”_

“Marijuana’s a drug, but it’s harmless. Well…” Tony looked at the pale, shaking figure in front of him. “Mostly harmless.”

“’M gonna die?”

Tony did his best to reassure the teen.

“No, bud, you’re not gonna die. We’ll just have to wait it out.”

“’s gonna get worse?”

“That depends. When did you eat the brownies?”

Peter pried his eyes open to glance at the dashboard clock inside the car.

“Dunno. Time’s wonky. Maybe an hour ‘go.”

Tony sucked in a quiet breath.

“I hate to break it to you kid, but you’re probably gonna feel worse before you start to get better. Edibles tend to stick around in your system a while.”

At this, Peter let out a groan and let his head fall forward onto Tony’s chest again. The billionaire could feel the kid’s racing heart through his shirt.

“What if it _never_ goes away? What if I’m like this _forever_?”

“You won’t be.” Tony tired to be reassuring. He hoped Peter recovered quickly for both their sakes, but he knew they probably wouldn’t be so lucky.

“Let’s get you home, kid. The sooner we get you laying down the sooner you can try and get some rest.”

* * *

Tony was right: Peter _did_ get worse. The entire ride to the Parker’s apartment, Peter was curled tightly up in his seat, his eyes squeezed closed and his face pale and sweaty. His breathing had picked up again, and Tony could tell the kid was doing everything in his power to keep himself from having another full-blown panic attack. The boy’s limbs kept twitching sporadically. Despite the man’s efforts to drive carefully, every bump and turn elicited whines from the kid, who clutched the seat belt frantically as if trying to ground himself.

The two drove in silence, Peter using all his concentration on keeping his panic at bay, and Tony remaining as quiet as possible to avoid aggravating the kid’s already-delicate senses.

When they finally arrived at Peter’s apartment, Tony carefully stopped the car at the doorstep and walked around to the passenger’s side to help Peter out of the car. Peter didn’t move as Tony carefully removed his seat belt, still curled into a ball with his head down.

“We’re here, Peter.” The man’s voice was gentle. “Time to go.”

The boy slowly raised his head, squinting at the dark street around them. When he recognized where he was, Peter’s eyes grew wide and he began to panic.

“No, no, no. NO!”

Tony, surprised by Peter’s sudden outburst, grabbed the kid by the shoulders, his grip gentle yet firm.

“We’re at you’re apartment, bud. May and I are gonna help you feel better.”

Peter yanked himself out of his hero’s grasp, falling back against the car seat as another wave of dizziness flooded over him.

“No May.”

Tony sank down until he was squatting in front of the kid, who was rubbing his eyes. He felt a twinge of sympathy for Peter, remembering the many nights he’d spent high as a teenager, sneaking in through his bedroom window to avoid getting caught by Maria.

Tony rubbed the kid’s knee as he spoke.

“Peter, May isn’t gonna be mad. It was an accident. I’m sure she did dumb shit when she was a kid too. She and I are gonna help you, okay?”

Peter shook his head, but he stopped squirming.

“ _No_. No May. Don’ want her t’ see me like this.”

Peter opened his eyes, glancing at his mentor with a look of sincerity. Tony could see that he was on the verge of tears. He sighed.

“Okay, okay. Fine. The tower it is. I’ll give May some excuse.”

Peter breathed a sigh of relief and wiped his glassy eyes on his hoodie sleeve.

“Thank you, M’str St’rk.”

“I got you, kid.”

* * *

Ten minutes into the drive toward the tower, Peter spoke up again, his voice scratchy and weak.

“Need wat’r.”

Tony glanced at the kid.

“Water?”

Peter nodded weakly.

“I don’t think I have any with me bud. Can you wait twenty minutes?”

Peter didn’t respond, only grunted, and Tony looked over to the kid, slumped over in his seat with his eyes closed. The man’s stomach churned anxiously at the kid’s pallor.

“Actually, I think there’s a 7-11 up ahead. Why don’t I swing by and grab you a drink?”

“M’kay”.

Tony pulled into the parking lot and stopped the car. He gave Peter a quick pat on the head before exiting the car.

“Be right back.”

The billionaire entered the store, grimacing at the loud buzzing of the overhead lights. He headed for the pop machine on the back counter, quickly filling a large cup with ice water. The man then snagged a few bags of chips off the shelf (he knew from experience that _the munchies_ were a real thing) and a bottle of ibuprofen before heading to the register. He slipped the cashier a $50, grunting “keep the change”, before heading out the door and back to the car.

However, when Tony reached the car, his heart practically stopped. The passenger’s seat where Peter had been balled up when he left was now empty.

“Shit.”

He’d been gone thirty seconds and he’d already lost the kid.

Swinging open the driver’s side door forcefully, Tony scanned the front seat for any signs of his missing, _intoxicated_ kid. His voice was brimming with panic as he frantically yelled the boy’s name.

“PETER?”

Tony’s yelling was quickly followed by a harsh whisper.

“Shh! He’s gonna kill us!”

Tony whipped around toward the back of the car, where he found a very sweaty Peter squished in between the seats, his finger to his lips, motioning for the man to be quiet. The kid was wide-eyed and fully alert, a striking contrast from the half-conscious teenager who had occupied the passenger seat a minute ago.

Tony put his hand to his heart, which was beating erratically. He was breathless.

“ _Geez_ , kid. You can’t scare me like that. I’ve got a heart con- “

“ _SHHH!”_

Peter frantically motioned over Tony’s shoulder; his face was fearful.

The billionaire, who was a bit exasperated at this point, turned around to see what the kid was pointing at. Behind him, a little old man was entering the doors of the 7-11. He was very frail and leaned heavily on a cane as he walked.

Tony lowered his voice and turned back to Peter.

“ _What?”_

Peter watched the old man carefully as he peered out from behind the car seat.

“He’s been watching us. He’s gonna try and kill me.”

Tony turned back to look at the old man, who was now inside the store, filling up a large cup with cherry slushie.

“That old man?” 

Peter nodded frantically, his eyebrows practically in his hairline.

Mr. Stark let out a breathy laugh and ruffled the kid’s hair.

“I think that’s the weed talking, kiddo. No one is trying to kill you.”

Peter shook his head.

“But he _is!_ He looked at me when he was filling up his gas tank. And his cane is a _gun!_ ”

“He was probably looking at you because you’re hiding behind a car seat, Peter. Come on, I got you some water.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Climbing into the front seat, the alleged murderer was quickly forgotten as Peter suddenly grabbed his head and lowered himself against window, biting his lip.

“Dizzy.”

Tony’s brow furrowed in concern.

“You okay, bud?”

Peter didn’t move, and he kept his hands clasped to his head.

“Here,” Tony grabbed the cup of water and raised the straw to Peter’s lips. “Drink.”

The kid gratefully accepted the gift and began to chug the water. Tony could swear Peter drank half the cup before he stopped to take a breath, practically gasping for air when he’d finished the sip.

“Any better?”

“A little.”

As Tony started the car and began to pull out of the parking lot, Peter sank back down into the seat, carefully placing the cup back into the cup holder before wrapping his arms around his knees again and resting his head on the chilly window. He began to speak again, looking off into space.

“Y’know those _really_ old TVs? The boxy ones?”

“Yeah…” Tony answered, trying not to take offense at how old the kid’s comment made him feel.

“Y’know how sometimes when you’d touch them, they’d be staticky and shock you a little bit? Like, _zzt._ ”

The kid made a noise that Tony could only assume was supposed to be an electric shock.

“Uh huh…” The man nodded slowly, unsure of where Peter was going with this.

“Th’ts how my brain feels. Shocky. Like I’m thinkin’ and then _zzt_. And m’ brain and m’ body are separate. Like, I do things before I think about them. I think M’ body is going faster than m’ brain.”

“Huh.”

They rode along quietly for a while. Occasionally, Peter would let out a little groan and Tony would glance over at him to make sure the kid was still alive.

After a few minutes of near-silence, Tony spoke up.

“So, when did you suddenly turn into a party animal? I never thought you were the type.”

“’M not. Usually.” Peter grunted. “It’s just that I act’lly got invited to one. Thought I’d go ‘n see what it was like.” The boy rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Flash said it was gonna be ‘legend’ry’.” He paused. “And a girl I kinda like was gonna be there.”

Tony chose not to pry at Peter’s final comment, no matter how curious he was.

“So, wait. Let me get this straight. You went to a party that _Flash_ kid invited you too? Like, the one who _bullies_ you?”

“Sounds like a bad idea now that you say it out loud.”

Tony smiled slightly and turned his eyes back to the road. Thankfully, there wasn’t much traffic so early in the morning, even in New York.

The two sat quietly for a while. The silence wasn’t awkward; it was almost comforting.

Eventually, the billionaire spoke again, softly.

“Peter, do you remember how I told you I went to MIT when I was fourteen?”

Peter nodded.

“C’se you’re a genius.”

Tony chuckled.

“Well, genius or not, I was too young. I got exposed to a lot of shit that messed me up for a long time.”

Peter looked over at his mentor. His voice was soft and slurred.

“Like pot brownies?”

Tony’s tone was grave, but he offered a small smile at Peter’s question.

“Worse than pot brownies.”

“Oh.” The kid looked down at his hands, which were pulling anxiously at his hoodie strings. “Sorry.”

“No, _geez_ , kid. Don’t apologize. Not your fault.”

Peter and Tony sat for a minute, watching the streetlights change, before the man had the courage to speak up again.

“What I’m trying to say is…” Tony paused to take a breath. “We all do stupid shit as teenagers, whether it’s accidental or on purpose. I just want you to be careful. I don’t want you to end up like me.”

Peter’s brow furrowed as he looked up at his mentor.

“But you’re _Iron Man_. Anyone would be lucky to end up like you.”

Tony felt simultaneously flattered and slightly guilty that the kid had such a high image of his character. He laughed dryly but decided not to dive any further into his checkered past tonight.

“Just no more brownies, okay bud?”

Peter’s bloodshot eyes grew wide.

“No way. I’m _never_ eating another brownie again. Regular _or_ laced. Just the thought makes me want to- “

He stopped speaking suddenly, and Tony noted the subtle shade of green that had returned to the kid’s complexion.

“Nuh uh. No more puking. At least not in the car. Come on. Let’s get you upstairs.”

Peter was surprised to find that they had arrived at the tower and were parked outside the front entrance.

This time, when Tony tried to help Peter out of the car, the kid tripped. He would have face planted into the concrete if Tony hadn’t caught him under the arms.

“Easy, kid. You still dizzy?”

Peter nodded miserably, and the kid looked so horrible that Tony felt it was too cruel to make him walk.

“Come here.” Tony grabbed Peter under the knees and scooped him up into his arms.

“This is ‘mbarassing.” Peter protested weakly, but Tony didn’t care.

“So was rescuing you from a bush in front of a crowd of drunk teenagers. Karma’s a bitch sometimes, kid.”

It took a few minutes to carry Peter upstairs (the kid was heavier than his small frame might suggest, even with the help of an elevator), but eventually Tony managed to make it to the main level. He deposited the kid gently on the living room couch before heading toward the linen closet.

“Hang on, kiddo. I think Pepper keeps a weighted blanket in here somewhere. It’s supposed to help with anxiety.”

He rummaged through the closet for a minute before pulling out a soft, grey blanket. He carried to over to the kid, who was now laying on his side across the couch, his face pinched in discomfort. Tony gently draped the heavy blanket over Peter, whose tension seemed to melt. The kid nuzzled deeper into the couch and pulled the blanket up to his nose.

“Thank you. Helps.”

Tony smiled at the snuggled-up bundle on the sofa.

“Of course, bud. Glad to help.”

The man turned toward the light switch, slowly lowering the overhead lights until the living room was mostly dark, lit only by the soft glow of the kitchen lights across the room.

“C’n you play music?”

Tony would have assumed that the kid would want a silent room, but he was happy to honor his request.

“FRIDAY, play one of Peter’s playlists. _Quietly._ ”

Soft alternative rock began to echo through the tower and Peter sighed, nuzzling up further into the blanket.

“Thanks, M’str St’rk.”

“Of course, kid. Need anything else? Snacks? Some water?”

Peter kept his eyes shut as he mumbled in reply.

“Snacks ‘d be good.”

“Coming right up, Spider-Man.”

Tony padded quietly to the kitchen, where he grabbed a bag of Doritos, a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream, and a bottle of water. He returned quietly to the sofa, not wanting to disturb the kid, who was finally starting to look more comfortable.

“Here you go.” Tony whispered, setting down the pile of junk food on the coffee table in front of the kid. The boy didn’t respond, and Tony knelt down next to him.

“ _Peter?”_

The kid’s eyes were closed-- not painfully scrunched up as they’d been all night, but gently. Peacefully. A tiny snore escaped the boy’s parted lips, and Tony broke into a smile.

“Alright, sleepyhead. You can eat in the morning.”

**Author's Note:**

> i based this on my one experience with drugs which absolutely TRAUMATIZED me. long story short, i did an edible and was in a constant state of panic for six hours because i was one hundred percent convinced that i was dying. i still get nauseous every time i smell weed lol. moral of the story is don't do drugs (ESPECIALLY edibles, & especially if you're a lightweight who has never smoked in her life oops).
> 
> please leave kudos and feedback in the comments (good or bad) if you feel inclined!!! & come say hi on tumblr (sparksaam)!
> 
> love you all!! stay safe!!
> 
> -sam


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